When Katie Embury moves to the big city she only hopes to find a job and learn how to be a real adult. But when a big red dog and a handsome man who looks alarmingly like Mr. Darcy arrive on the scene things don't go exactly as planned. Modern NA.

A
slow thudding woke me the next morning. Much to my surprise, Oliver
was hopping up and down on one foot next to my bed.

"What
are you doing?" I asked, squinting at him. He was pulling the
strangest face I'd ever seen.

Grunting,
he bent down and held his foot. "I think I broke my toe."

"By
jumping on one foot?" Maybe I was still dreaming.

He
huffed and sank down next to me, his fingers clenched around his
little toe. "No, by trying to get that dog to come and eat its
breakfast before I leave to get your car." He was interrupted by
the sound of a horn outside. "That's Junie," he told me.
"She's driving me to the catering company."

I
rolled over and tried to find my clock, but it had vanished. "What
time is it?"

"Almost
ten. You've been asleep for a long time."

Sometimes
Oliver's talent for stating the obvious was unreal. "Why did you
let me sleep so long?" I yawned, feeling altogether too comfortable
to dig myself out from my warm covers.

Oliver
cleared his throat. "I thought, given the activities of last
night, that you could use a little extra rest."

I
rolled back over and flung my arms around him. "You're the best
brother I've ever had," I said.

"I'm
the only
brother you've ever had. Now, let go so I can leave. Junie's
waiting outside with the baby." He winced when he stood up but
managed to limp around without too much trouble.

"How
exactly did you hurt yourself again?" I asked, noticing for the
first time that Mr. P was lying quietly in the corner.

An
embarrassed look crossed his face and he turned to leave. "I ran
into your bed, if you must know," he said huffily. "But before
you go and tease me about it, please remember that it happened while
I was trying to save you some trouble."

He
had a point there. "Thanks, Oliver," I said meekly.

Oliver
wrinkled his nose at me. "While I'm gone, take a shower. You
smell like dog drool."

Mr.
P had
been rather clingy the night before, but I wasn't going to
complain. "All right," I sighed. "Come on, Mr. P. Let's
get you fed and watered and then I'll obey the great Ollinator."

Smirking
at me from the doorway, Oliver bowed. "And don't forget it."

Mr.
P and I helped ourselves to breakfast, which we munched in noisy
contemplation. Mr. P was engrossed in his Sunday morning cartoons,
and I was trying to imagine what Sam was doing. Most likely he was
still sleeping off the effects of yesterday's party. Part of me
hoped he was thinking of me.

I
took another long, hot shower – if Oliver complained about the
water bill I'd feel justified in telling him it was all his fault –
and emerged from the bathroom just as the phone started ringing.

"Hello?"
I said absently. Trying to put socks on with a phone stuck in the
crook of your neck was proving more difficult than I'd anticipated.

"Is
this Katie Embury?"

"Sure
is," I replied, still not paying much attention.

"This
is Ellen. I work for Senator Embury in his Indianapolis office."

I
promptly dropped the phone on the floor, followed closely by the
socks. Had Mr. Selman turned me in? Was I going to be arrested for
impersonating the senator's daughter? I leaned over to grab the
phone and fell off the bed.

Ellen
was patiently waiting for me. "I'm sorry," I gasped, wishing I
didn't sound quite so winded, "but I could have sworn you said
you were from Senator Embury's office."

Her
pause was so short I was sure I'd imagined that, too. "I am,"
she said in a voice that sounded suspiciously amused. "Senator
Embury would like to meet with you early this afternoon. He's
aware that it's Sunday, but he has to get back to Washington
tonight and was hoping you could squeeze him in."

It
didn't sound like I was going to be locked up in a tiny jail cell
with a bunch of axe murderers, and I felt my shoulders relax a
little. "My brother's picking up my car, but I can leave as soon
as he gets back," I told Ellen. I'd never been contacted by a
politician (or his assistants) before, and I was pretty sure you
didn't just ignore it.

"When
do you expect you could come in?" Ellen asked. It sounded like she
was chewing on a pencil.

As
I was opening my mouth to tell her I honestly had no idea I heard the
back door bang closed. "I can be there in thirty minutes."
Honestly, if I hadn't given up Jane Austen I'd swear I was living
in one of her novels. Everything was just happening so conveniently.

Ellen
gave me directions, and a few minutes later I was heading out the
door. "Where are you going?" Oliver called after my retreating
back.

"To
see the senator," I yelled back. "I don't know when I'll be
back. Thanks for getting my car!"

"What
senator?" Oliver demanded, sounding incredulous.

"Embury,
of course."

He
stood in the door and watched me leave, his head shaking in
disbelief. I would have agreed with him, but I was in a bit of a
hurry.

Oliver
had left the radio on, and the news was just beginning when I drove
down the street. "In local news," the radio announced said in a
gleeful way, "Peter Selman, founder of Peter's Perfect Catering,
was arrested last night on bribery charges. Selman, who recently won
a contract that gave him exclusive catering rights to all IMS track
events, reportedly purchased a car for a track employee, who in turn
arranged the terms of the contract. David Selman, Peter's oldest
son, was not available for comment."

I
reached over and turned off the radio. So Sam probably hadn't been
thinking about me, I mused. At least, he hadn't been thinking
about me in a good way. I wondered what would happen to the company
now. Maybe they'd fire Agnes.

***

Senator
Embury was tremendously polite, and apologized for the
misunderstanding of the day before. "I believe your boss fired you
because of a mix-up concerning your name," he said, shaking his
head.

I
started to shrug and then changed my mind. "It's hardly your
fault that Katie's such a common name."

The
senator cleared his throat. "Actually, it is. My wife and I
couldn't decide on a name when she was expecting Katie, and we
still didn't have one after she was born. We happened to live near
Vincennes then, and when the nurse heard our last name she told us
that another Embury couple had named their baby Katie. For the lack
of anything better we called her Katie until it was time to go home,
and by that time we'd gotten so used to it that we couldn't
change it if we wanted to."

I
didn't know exactly what to do with this information. "So I'm
the original Katie," I said slowly. "And all the confusion has
been because you couldn't think of something on your own."

He
nodded and sighed. "At that point I had no idea I'd ever be in
politics and that adopting your name would be such a problem for you.
And now you've been fired. I must confess that I feel slightly
responsible."

"How
did you know about that?" I asked. "About me being fired because
I was the wrong Katie Embury? It's hardly common knowledge."

He
leaned back in his chair and regarded me steadily. "After Katie –
my Katie – and I met you in the foyer I could tell that something
wasn't right. I must admit that I followed you and Mr. Selman
through the house, and . . . " He trailed off, looking at me
meaningfully.

Did
everyone I met have aspirations to be a private eye? "You listened
at the door," I finished for him. When he tipped his head in
agreement, I sighed. "I guess it was all for the best," I said,
half to myself. "I don't know what's going to happen to the
company now that Mr. Selman's in legal trouble."

"That's
what I wanted to talk to you about." Senator Embury was so serious
even his hair didn't dare wave in the breeze from the heating
vents. "Tell me what happened."

So
I did. I told him about the first time I met Josh, and our
subsequent encounters; of the tour at the track, and later of Josh's
visit to the catering company. I even told him every nasty thing
Josh had said to me over the past two months. "So when I got
Junie's text, saying that Mr. Selman had bought the car, I had to
figure it out."

"Would
you have been as interested in foiling the plot if you hadn't been
fired?"

"Yes."
I tried to look as serious as he did, but it was hard when you
didn't know what the big deal was. "I can safely say that I
would have."

The
senator smiled slightly. "That's what I was hoping. I've been
very impressed with you, Miss Embury, especially after Sam defended
you so valiantly."

My
throat suddenly became very tight. "He did?"

"He
did. It took him a while to figure out that you were missing and
then ran around the house searching for you. He was in the middle of
pulling a canoe toward the pond when I came across him quite by
accident. He said something to the effect that you may have fallen
in -- and I explained what had happened."

I
felt momentarily bothered. After all, it'd hardly been my fault
that the canoe had tipped over in the first place. But it was nice
to know that he cared enough to look for me.

"Thank
you," I told the senator faintly.

Looking
pleased with himself, Senator Embury steepled his fingers together
and regarded me for a long time. "I have a proposition for you,"
he said. "I'd like to offer you a position with my staff in
Washington."

I
stared at him in shock. "I'm sorry, sir?"

He
looked me straight in the eye. "It's not always easy, or
comfortable, to do the right thing, and in Washington it's even
harder. I've tried to surround myself with people who know their
conscience and are willing to follow it, even when those around you
tell you you're a fool or that you're wasting your time. I
believe you are one of those people that will stick to her morals, no
matter the consequences."

I
swallowed hard. This would certainly solve my current jobless
situation. But I wasn't sure that I wanted to leave Indiana for
good.

"Think
about it," he said, a note of finality in his voice. "I have to
be on a plane in two hours, so I'm afraid I'll have to leave you.
Call Ellen with your answer when you're ready."

He
stood up and shook my hand. "Again, I apologize for giving my
daughter your name. I hope she can live up to it."

I
stumbled out of the senator's office, not really registering what
had just happened. I drove around on the back roads of Indianapolis
and its surrounding communities for a long time without really
realizing where I was, finally ending up outside Holliday Park where
Mr. P and I had met Junie all those weeks ago. I turned onto my
street and walked into the house, hoping to find Oliver.

Instead
I found a note. Went
to study on campus. Call me when you get home and I'll meet you
somewhere for dinner.
I sighed. It was good to see Oliver hitting the books again, but I
needed someone to talk to. Not surprisingly, I got his voice mail.

"Hey,
Oliver. I think I'll take Mr. P for a walk. I'll see you when
you get home. Thanks for the invite."

At
the word 'walk' Mr. Poppikins magically appeared by the back
door, his leash clenched hopefully in his jaws. "All right," I
said, ruffling his fur. "They don't talk about canine hearing
for nothing. Let's go."

The
Monon Trail was almost deserted when we got out of the car, probably
because the weather had changed overnight from pleasant fall
briskness to a cold that hinted of a long winter. I grabbed a jacket
from the backseat, tried to brush off most of Mr. P's hairs, and
put it on.

I
hadn't taken Mr. P to the Monon Trail since that fateful first day
when he'd wrapped the leash around me, sticking mostly to the
neighborhood sidewalks and Holliday Park for our walks. He trotted
next to me, looking for all the world like I'd finally come around
to his way of thinking. He sniffed all around like he was looking
for something very important. Or tasty. It's hard to tell with
dogs.

It
didn't take me long to figure out that neither Mr. P nor I were
going to get much exercise today, because we ambled along the trail
for a long time without getting very far. I'd tried for years to
avoid thinking about my future – deep down, I knew that I'd only
accepted the position at Uncle Bob's real estate agency and then
the one as Mr. Selman's personal assistant because I didn't know
what else to do and had been afraid that if I knew what I wanted, I
wouldn't get it. Maybe it was time to grow up a little and see
what I could do.

The
problem was, I didn't know what I wanted to be when I grew up. I
just knew what I didn't want to be.

But
did I want to live and work in Washington? I just couldn't see
myself doing that long term. Maybe for a little while, but I was a
Midwestern girl at heart.

Mr.
P suddenly raised his head and looked down the path. I would have
thought that he'd finally found what he was looking for, but we
hadn't been here in more than two months. Besides, I didn't
think dogs lost things. Couldn't they find their belongings by
smell?

When
we reached the top of the bridge going over the White River Mr. P,
evidently bored now that his treasure hunt was over, sat down and
wouldn't budge. No matter how hard I yanked on his leash, he just
laid there, tilting his head up to the weak sunshine. Then he looked
sharply to his right and barked once.

A
second later Sam came around the corner.

He
was talking on his phone and raking his hand through his hair, but
when Mr. P barked again Sam's head shot up and he stared at me in
shock. He flipped the phone closed and stuffed it in his pocket, his
movements jerky. The next thing I knew he was in a dead run. He
skidded to a halt in front of me, gasping for breath, and gaped at me
like he was seeing a ghost.

"Hi,
Sam."

Before
the words were completely out of my mouth he had his arms around me
so tight I was the one gasping for breath.

We
stood there for a long time. I listened as his heart rate gradually
slowed down and his breathing returned to normal. He was still
wearing the same clothes he'd had on for the party, and I could
feel his stubbly chin where he'd pressed his face to the top of my
head.

"I
can't believe I found you."

I
could hardly believe it myself. What were the odds that we'd both
be wandering down the Monon Trail at the same random time again? If
it wasn't fate we were both really, insanely lucky. I wasn't
sure which one I preferred.

"I
hear you've been busy since I last saw you." For a man who acted
like he was never going to let me go his tone was overly casual.

I
pulled back so I could look at him properly. "Your dad fired me –
"

"I
had to hear that from the senator."

Ignoring
his pointed look, I continued, "Then Junie and I figured out about
Josh and Mr. Selman." I waited for another interruption, but he
turned his face away and stared out over the river. "And then I
went to your father's office to see what I could find."

Sam
stepped around me and leaned against the guardrail, staring at the
water gurgling past. "I heard about the rest of your activities in
the police station. What I can't figure out is why you left
without telling me where you were going? You walked into that
building by yourself. Anyone could have followed you in and done
unspeakable things to you. And they did!" he exploded, his hands
fisting on the bridge. "Weren't you in line when they handed out
street smarts in heaven? Do you know what I've been through for
the past twelve hours?"

He
wasn't exactly shouting, but I'd bet a sizable chunk of cash that
the fish swimming below us could hear him pretty clearly. "I'm
guessing you weren't dreaming about butterflies and flowers."

He
rounded on me, his eyes slightly wild. "Let me tell you what I was
thinking. Back at the party, when I couldn't find you, I convinced
myself that you were drowned in the pond. Once the senator calmed me
down some I thought you didn't trust me enough to ask me to help
you. Why didn't you come get me after Dad – after Dad – "

Shaking
his head impatiently, Sam strode across the bridge and stood there
with his back against the rail. "Sure. All those things. Why
didn't you come and find me?"

I
could hardly believe what I was hearing. Was he ignoring the fact
that Mr. Selman – his own father – had fired me? Without any
reason? I could feel my brows furrowing together. "He told me to
get out of the house," I reminded him, my tone icy. "I was
surprised he gave me enough time to pack my things before he threw me
out himself. He certainly didn't bother to see how I was going to
get home," I added. "Hannah had to help me with that."

He
made an impatient noise. "I can't believe he'd be so dumb as
to think the other Katie would want to work with him and put up with
his crap. Didn't you ever tell him who you really were?"

This
was going a little too far. "I'm Katie Embury," I said
stiffly. "Do you need to see my driver's license as proof? I
never lied to him."

I
yanked my foot from underneath Mr. P. Strength must come to angry
people, I thought bitterly. It was too bad you couldn't get
stronger when you were scared out of your wits, too – that would
have come in handy last night when I was trying to escape from Josh.

"You
had to have suspected something."

Honestly,
the man was too infuriating for words. "And just how was I
supposed to do that? He never asked about my family, never suggested
that I knew people in politics. I didn't even know he thought I
was the wrong one! What am I supposed to do?" I snapped, grabbing
Mr. P's leash and pulling hard. He looked up at me and yawned.
"Go up to everyone that I meet and say, 'Oh, by the way, my
name's really Katie but I'm just a plain old boring girl whose
name happened to be stolen from her by someone who turned out to be
famous later'?"

I
knew that didn't make a whole lot of sense but I didn't care. I
glared at Sam. "Why are we arguing about this, anyway? Do you
resent the fact that I found out what he and Josh had been doing?"

Sam,
who'd been listening to all this with his mouth hanging open in
shock, suddenly found his voice. "What? He deserves everything he
gets. No, I'm not mad about that. I'm mad that you walked into
that building last night all alone and that Haskins even thought
about laying a finger on you!"

We
stared at each other for a loaded minute. Sam was breathing rapidly
again, and I couldn't help remembering what Josh had wanted to do
to me. "How do you know about that?" I asked quietly. Mr. P
sidled over and leaned his head against my knee.

Sam
exhaled heavily. "I tried to get your police officer friend to let
me listen to the tape, but he wouldn't. Said it was against the
law. He did tell me a little about what you'd unearthed in that
office, though," he said, just as quietly. "First the part where
Dad made that insane deal with Haskins, and then when Haskins –
when Haskins – " He looked like he might be sick over the side
of the bridge.

My
mind refused to revisit Josh's words, but my hand crept up to touch
my mouth and I shivered. "They assured me that you hadn't been
hurt, that you were just fine," Sam continued, "but as soon as I
got out of there I had to find you and see for myself. I've been
searching ever since."

I
had to hand it to Sam – he was very good at banishing Josh from my
brain. I looped Mr. P's leash around my wrist several times and
yanked harder. He just sighed and nudged my leg with his nose, and I
brushed at him with my free hand. "Why, so you could yell at me?"

"I'm
not yelling at you!" he yelled. When I glared at him, he ran his
hand over his face and took several deep breaths. "I'm sorry,"
he said in a more normal tone. "I was worried out of my mind. The
police wouldn't tell me where you were, and your car was still in
the parking lot. When I went to your house this morning no one
answered and I started getting desperate. I didn't know where to
go next, so I thought I'd come back to where we'd met the first
time and try to figure something out."

"But
why?" I cried. "Why go through all this trouble? I would have
sent you back the keys to your car – "

Sam
made a grunt of frustration. "Forget the car," he said, his words
getting louder with every one that came out of his mouth. "I could
care less about that stupid car. It can fall in the river for all I
care! I was out of my mind with worry because I love you!"

I
froze.

Sam,
who looked like he wasn't sure how that statement had come out of
his mouth, and didn't know what to do about it now that it had,
slid his eyes away from mine and shifted uncomfortably. I sucked in
a shallow breath and rubbed my forehead, hard. I so wanted to
believe him, but the things Mr. Selman had said just wouldn't leave
me alone. It would have helped if Sam didn't seem to be regretting
his words. "No, you don't." I swallowed and tried to turn
away from him, but Mr. P spread out on the sidewalk, resting his head
on his paws. He looked like he was ready to take a nap. As soon as
I got home I was going to lock him in the laundry room for
insubordination. "You just don't."

He
took a step toward me. "I do."

When
I looked up again the distance between us had closed by half. "You
don't," I insisted. Don't cry, don't' cry, I told myself.
Whatever you do, don't fall apart now.

"How
can you say that?" His voice was incredulous. "Haven't I been
fairly obvious? I thought everyone could tell just by looking at
me."

"I'm
not everyone," I said stiffly. "Your dad told me you didn't
want to ask me out that time we went to Mama Carolla's. I know he
forced you to do it."

His
eyes flashing in annoyance, Sam took another step toward me. I would
have backed away, but between the guardrail and Mr. P I had nowhere
to go. "He didn't force me to do anything," he said angrily.
"I'm a grown man, in case you hadn't noticed."

Oh,
I'd noticed, all right, but this was hardly the time to say that.

"He
suggested that I should ask you out several times, but I was . . .
too cautious, I guess. For all I knew, he'd told you to say yes if
I asked, and I didn't want you to go out with me because you
thought you had to. And then you'd just been out with Haskins –
" He said the name like it'd been covered in slime – "and I
wasn't sure if anything was going on or not. But when I saw you
sitting there, cleaning that stupid golf club, the words just came
flying out. And I'm glad they did."

Huh.
"What about the Governor's Ball?" I shot back. "You hardly
seemed thrilled when he told me to go with you."

Sam
made a strange noise, the kind where if he'd had his mouth open, it
would have come out as a shout. "I didn't want you to go with me
because you felt you had to!" he cried, advancing another foot.
"Weren't you listening before? I wanted you to go out with me
because you wanted to, not because you thought that if you didn't
you'd lose your job!"

As
much as I hated to admit it, he did have a point. When I glanced
back up at him his face was mere inches from mine. He placed his
hands on the rail on either side of me, his arms tight around me so I
couldn't move away. "Does this feel like I don't know my own
heart?" he demanded, and the next thing I knew he was kissing me.

If
our first kiss had been sweet, this one was anything but. I felt
like Sam was trying to pour all his frustrations and worry and relief
into that one kiss. It went on for a long time, and when he finally
pulled his head away to look at me with glittering eyes I was
surprised to find that my arms had somehow found their way around his
neck.

"Well?"
he asked intently. "Have I convinced you that I know what I'm
talking about, or do you need another demonstration?"

I
opened my mouth to tell him that I wouldn't really mind another
demonstration, regardless of whether I believed him or not, but Mr. P
squeezed himself between my legs and the railing, pushing me even
closer to Sam. He kissed me again, less desperately this time, and
when he lifted his head away I was seeing those flashes of light
again.

Maybe
it wasn't the flash photography after all.

"Katie,
I love you. I have for a long time now. I don't know how to
convince you, but I do."

For
the first time in almost twenty four hours, I felt a smile tug at my
lips. "You do?"

Mr.
P brushed against the back of my legs again, and I flapped my hand at
him absently.

"I
do." I'd never seen Sam so earnest and solemn.

Taking
a deep breath, and pushing Mr. P's head away again,
I grinned up at him. "That's very good news."

"Oh?
Why's that?" Sam was grinning goofily back at me.

"Because
I love you, too."

This
time Sam's kiss was full of promise.

When
we finally came to our senses I tried to step back from Sam – and
we promptly fell backward into the side of the bridge. It was a good
thing Sam caught us with his hands; my back hurt enough without his
added weight. "What's wrong with my legs?" I laughed,
struggling to plant my feet on the ground. For some reason they
weren't behaving properly. "What's going on?"

Sam
twisted his head down and started to laugh. He laughed so hard that
he couldn't stop for a good long time. "I think that's one of
the things I love most about you, Katie," he said, wiping his eyes
with the back of his hand. "It's never dull when you're
around."

I
was starting to feel a little annoyed. I hadn't done anything to
him, and I told him so. "All I did was kiss you back, and you
didn't seem to think it was funny a few seconds ago."

He
took my chin between his hands and pointed my head toward our knees.
"It's your blasted dog again," he told me, throwing that wry
smile of his at me. "Mr. P tied us together with his leash when we
weren't paying attention."

Sure
enough, the leash was wrapped around us several times. "I wondered
what he was doing, brushing the back of my legs," I said, and
started to smile. "I guess we have his seal of approval."

Sam
kissed me briefly. While we tried to stand up correctly again, a
young woman pushing a stroller trotted past us. She took one look in
our direction, snapped closed the visor over her baby, and wheeled
around. She gave us a very disgusted look, which made us laugh even
harder. By the time we'd unwound ourselves my sides ached so much
I had a hard time standing up straight – even without the leash.

***

Sam
followed me all the way home because, as he told me half-seriously,
he couldn't trust me to stay out of trouble that long.

"I
only live five miles away," I protested laughingly. "What could
I possibly do in five miles?"

"You
never know," was his only response. "Anyway, I need to get your
phone back to you. I go a little crazy if I can't get a hold of
you."

I
thought about this as I drove through the streets. While I
appreciated the sentiment, it hardly seemed right to use a company
phone when I no longer worked for said company. I wondered if Sam
remembered that his dad had bought the phone for me in the first
place.

Oliver
was waiting for me when Sam and I walked through the back door.

"Where
have you been?" he demanded. "You didn't say anything in your
message about your meeting with the senator! Oh, hi, Sam. Hannah's
already here. She's in the sunroom if you want her."

"Hannah's
at our house?" I asked in surprise. "Why?"

Oliver
got a little pink in the face. "She called me to see where you
were," he told me defensively. "It seemed rude not to invite her
over when she sounded so worried."

I
raised my eyebrows at Sam. "So much for the random meeting on the
trail," I said drily.

Sam
had come to a halt in the middle of the kitchen. "I was talking to
her when I spotted you," he said. "Why were you talking to a
senator?"

I
tried to laugh disarmingly at his question – didn't people in
books do that when they wanted to change the subject without actually
changing it? – but it came out more like a gurgle. Sam just raised
his eyebrows even higher.

"One
of Senator Embury's staff members called this morning and asked if
I wouldn't mind meeting with him," I said, twitching my shoulder
nervously. I'd managed to forget about that whole meeting while
I'd been with Sam.

"Katie!"
The next thing I knew Hannah had barreled into the kitchen and
thrown her arms around me. "I'm so glad you're okay. Sam told
me what he heard at the police station last night. You're okay?"

I
felt myself blush. People kept asking me that, like I'd had some
sort of near-death experience or something.

Okay,
I very well could have. But still. I'd rather that people stopped
asking me about it. "I'm fine, thanks. I'm sorry about what
happened with your dad."

Hannah
had opened her mouth to say something that I was sure was profound,
but Sam cut her off. "I'm sure Hannah'll get over the shock.
What's this about a meeting with the Senator?"

We
turned to him in surprise. Hannah's eyes narrowed, but when she
looked between the two of us she did an about-face and grabbed
Oliver's hand. "I think I'd like to see your . . . um . . .
garage," she told Oliver brightly. "Won't you show it to me?"

"Now?
It's kind of cold out there," he objected. "And I want to
know what happened at the meeting."

"The
garage, Oliver. Now."

Oliver
jumped at her tone of voice and followed her meekly through the back
door. It had only taken her a week to get Oliver to obey. It had
taken my mom years – and my dad still wasn't fully trained.

When
the door closed quietly behind them, Sam placed his hands on my
shoulders. "Katie. Are you in some kind of trouble?"

"No."

He
folded his arms across his chest and waited.

"It's
not a big deal," I said defensively. "He just wanted to chat.
And he . . . he . . . "

"He
what?"

Why
didn't I want to tell him I'd been offered a job in Washington?
It wasn't like I'd done anything wrong; if anything, it was a
huge honor. But for some reason I didn't want to tell him. "He
apologized for stealing my name and making my life miserable."

Sam
stood there and waited.

"And
he might have offered me a job."

His
head jerked almost imperceptibly. "Did he, or didn't he?"

I
hesitated. "He did."

Sam
stared out the window before he said anything. It almost seemed like
he was addressing the tree in the backyard instead of me. "What's
so bad about that?" he asked lightly. "I like him. He seems
like a decent enough guy, even if he does have a horrid daughter."

I
took another deep breath. At this rate I'd suck out all the air in
the room and we'd have to borrow some from the neighbors. "In
Washington."

All
the color drained from his face. "What did you say?"

"He
offered me a job in his Washington office."

The
expression on Sam's face turned into something I didn't
recognize. It was almost like he'd placed a pair of reflective
sunglasses on his head, the kind that hide what you're really
thinking. His fingers tightened ever so slightly around my
shoulders. "What did you tell him?"

"I
told him I'd have to think about it."

Sam's
eyes met mine, and for a fraction of a second I could see panic
reflecting back at me. Then it was gone.

Inexplicably
nervous, I ducked around him and headed to the sunroom. It seemed
like we'd been standing in that kitchen for a small eternity, and I
suddenly felt like we needed to finish this conversation sitting
down, on something comfortable and warm.

Sam
followed me in and sat next to me on the loveseat. He was very
careful not to touch me. "So have you thought about it?" he
asked carefully, focusing his attention on the view outside.

"I
haven't had a whole lot of time," I admitted. "Mr. P and I
went to the trail so I could think, but I got a little sidetracked."
I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. He hadn't moved.

"Sorry."

Was
he? "I'm not." I pulled my legs onto the couch and rested my
head on my knees. "I did have time for a little pondering, though.
It would be stupid not to take it seriously – I mean, I don't
have a job right now, and with the economy the way it is . . . " I
let my voice trail off.

"What
would you be doing for him?"

That
brought me up short. I'd been so surprised by his offer that I
hadn't even bothered to ask. "I don't know," I admitted. "I
guess I should have been more thorough."

Sam
smiled a little at this. "May I give you an alternative?"

I
squinted at him. Unless he knew of someone that was hiring –
immediately – there wasn't a whole lot he could do. "Knock
yourself out."

"I
happen to know someone who's looking for a partner in his office,
and would like this person to start right away. It might start out
very similar to what you've been doing, at least until you learn
the ropes. Are you interested in that sort of work, or do you want
to try something else?"

Hm.
That was a good question. I didn't mind being a personal
assistant; it'd been kind of fun, working for Uncle Bob, and
besides the Agnes-inspired accidents, life at Peter's Perfect
Catering had had its good points. "I might be willing to give it
another try," I said cautiously. "No offense, but after your dad
I think I'd like to watch the guy first. Assuming I'm hired, of
course."

"Oh,
I don't think there'd be a problem with that. You probably
wouldn't make as much money as you were before; would that be a
problem?"

I'd
thought from the beginning that Mr. Selman had been paying me an
ungodly amount of money, and I told Sam so. "Besides," I added,
"it's not like I have a mortgage. Or a rent payment."

"You
might eventually."

He
had a point. And I was probably going to have to replace my poor,
murdered car once George and Bea got back from Japan. "I'm sure
I could work something out, if your friend likes me enough."

Sam
smiled to himself. "Oh, he likes you, all right."

I
suddenly became very suspicious. "Who's your friend? You're
not trying to pawn me off on David, are you? Because if you are –
"

Holding
his hands up in the air, Sam laughed openly. "You must be the
densest girl in Indiana," he said. "My 'friend' is me. Dad
put me in charge of the business when we were in the police station.
So now I need someone to keep me in line. Would you be willing to
consider it? It's not as glamorous as living in the nation's
capitol, but we have great food, and I'd be willing to throw in an
occasional dinner if that'll sway you."

My
legs slipped off the couch with a thump. "Are you kidding me?"

His
eyes finally meeting mine, Sam shook his head. "I've never been
more serious."

"I'd
be your personal assistant." I felt like a parrot, but I needed
clarification.

"Not
precisely. I'd like you to work alongside me, learning the
business as you go. You've already got a handle of what we fondly
call our logistical nightmare, so the rest should be easy."

I
wasn't quite expecting that. "Would I have to go on any golf
outings?"

His
lips twitched. "Not unless you're a closet golfer."

"Are
you still doing all the catering at the track?"

"Not
on your life."

I
exhaled loudly and sank back into the cushions. "I have one more
question. Do you still employ Agnes?"

Sam's
eyes flashed. "Not as of this morning. I don't work with
saboteurs, especially ones that try to hurt my girlfriend."

A
delighted tingle went through me at those words, and I couldn't
help beaming at him. Sam grinned back at me, draped his arm across
the back of the couch, and propped his legs up on the coffee table.
Mr. P, who'd come in sometime during our discussion, raised his
head and growled. Sam quickly dropped them back down again. "That
dog is the strangest creature I've ever seen. Are you sure he's
not a human under some sort of evil spell?"

"I
really doubt it. He's too interested in squirrels. Are you going
to change the name of the company?"

Laughing,
Sam picked up a strand of my hair and ran it through his fingers. "I
thought you said you only had one question left. By my count, that's
two. I don't feel obligated to answer."

"Sam
. . . "

He
laughed again. "Fine, fine. I have no plans to change the name,
at least not until things have calmed down some." I assumed he
meant, 'not until I find out if Dad ends up in jail or not.'
"And then it'll depend on what he does with it long-term. If you
wait long enough, you could help me think of names."

"Okay."

The
fingers stopped playing in my hair abruptly. "Okay, what? Okay,
you'll help me think of names, or okay, you'll think about
working with me?"

Now
who was dense? "Okay, I'll work for you."

Sam
made a strange noise in his throat and pulled me into such a fierce
hug that I was almost sitting on his lap. "Not for
me, with
me. When can you start?" I could feel his heart pounding in his
chest. Maybe my first order of business should be to schedule him a
check-up, I thought absently. This couldn't be good for his
health.

He
just rolled his eyes and smiled ruefully. "I think you'd better
get to work right away," he told me. "Then you won't have any
time to bug me with your smart comments."

"I
thought you wanted smart coworkers." I fluttered my eyelashes at
him in a very dim-witted sort of way.

Groaning,
Sam buried his face in my shoulder. "Enough, enough."

I
laughed at him outright. "How about, Sam's Splendid Catering?
Your catch phrase could be, 'We'll do anything to get your
business.' It'd be very appropriate."

"Very
funny."

I
thought for a minute. "You could always just name it Sam's. I
kind of like that."

Sam
thought about this for a minute. "How about S & K Catering?
That's even better."

I
stared at him blankly. "What's the 'K' stand for?"

Looking
at me thoughtfully, Sam simply shrugged and leaned in closer. "Am
I allowed to kiss my unofficial business partner, or is that against
the rules?"

I
put my hand on his chest to stop his forward movement. "Are office
romances okay? I don't want to get into any trouble."

He
pushed my hand away and laced his fingers through mine. "They're
perfectly fine. Besides, after that kiss in the paper it's common
knowledge that I'm crazy about you."

I
smiled. "In that case, you can kiss me anytime you want," I
breathed, and closed the gap between us to show him that I meant
exactly what I said.

***

Hannah
and Oliver emerged from the garage some time later, and if their
cheeks were a little rosier than usual, even given the cold
temperature, I didn't have it in me to give them a hard time. I
did notice, however, that they seemed much chummier in the months
after that.

Sam
and I officially started working together a week later, and, with Mr.
Selman and Agnes gone, the atmosphere changed quite drastically. I
might even say that it was a great place to work. (The fact that I'm
in love with the president-elect, so to speak, and he with me, hasn't
added to that feeling at all, I'm sure.) I tried not to pay
attention to what was happening with the bribery investigation, but
it seemed like hardly any time had passed before both Mr. Selman and
Josh were being formally tried.

My
mother invited Sam and Hannah to Thanksgiving dinner with the family,
and Sam and my dad quickly became fast friends. (This scared me, I
must admit. Why couldn't I have fallen for a mechanic?) It went
over so well that we repeated the experience at Christmas and again
the following spring around Easter, which is how I found myself
watching once again as my car-fixing father and my car-fixing
boyfriend holed themselves in the garage, talking shop like they knew
what they were doing. I wasn't too sure if this was a good idea;
my poor car was still in a million pieces all over the floor. I'd
have to start looking for a replacement before too long.

My
mother, especially, loved Sam. "This is great, Mrs. Embury," Sam
told her enthusiastically over dinner. "I haven't had a real
Easter dinner in years." He eyed the distance between himself and
the ham. I snorted under my breath and passed it to him – again.

Sam
shook his head. "No, ma'am. After the divorce we went out for
Easter. And Christmas. And Thanksgiving." His voice died away
like he'd just realized what he'd said.

She
passed the rest of the dishes to him without another word.

After
dinner a sulky Josie, along with the rest of us, trooped into the
kitchen to clean up. Sam had offered to help but my mom had seen the
speculative looks he'd been shooting at my father all through
dinner and shooed the two of them out of the room.

Josie
and I had been bickering pleasantly about dish-duty when Mom, tilting
her head meaningfully in Hannah's direction, suggested that it
would be a good idea for me to make sure all my things were out of my
old room. "Take Josie with you," she ordered. "She could help
you box things up. And Oliver – go watch a baseball game or
something. There are too many people in this kitchen."

That
was the lamest way to get rid of your children that I'd ever heard,
especially since I'd cleaned out said room at Thanksgiving. Oliver
threw Hannah an apologetic smile before he ducked through the
doorway. I rolled my eyes at her, and was relieved when she winked
at me and resumed drying. "I'll be fine," she mouthed, and we
left her to my mother's interrogation.

"You
realize, don't you, that Hannah may never set foot in this house
again?" Josie seemed to think this was very funny. "Dad's in
the garage talking to Sam about the nobility of his intentions, and
Mom's in the kitchen making sure Hannah won't want to wait
forever to start a family. I'm so glad I'm only fourteen."

"Can
I quote you on that?" I countered. Josie stuck her tongue out at
me.

"Very
mature, Josie." A strange feeling of déjà vu niggled at me.
Hadn't we had this discussion before?

"Mom's
kind of taken over your room," Josie informed me. She seemed very
happy at the thought. "I hope you weren't planning on coming
back to live here when the Butterworths come back." She flung open
the door with an expectant look on her face. "Here you are," she
told me cheerfully. "Home, sweet home."

"I
don't know why you're so excited about this," I said mildly.
"Mom called me a few weeks after Christmas to ask if I minded if
she turned my room into her 'project space'."

Josie
squashed up her face in a frown and pouted. "You're no fun. For
all you know she's given away all your precious books."

I
had a moment of panic before I remembered that I'd given up Pride
and Prejudice
for good. Technically, it wouldn't matter if she'd sent my book
to the landfill.

Noticing
my worried look before I could hide it, Josie laughed. "Come on,
Katie. No one would dream of doing something to your book. In fact,
I kept it safe for you." She ran down the hall, and when she
emerged from her own room she had an opened box under her arm. "Did
something happen last fall? Have you finally decided that Mr. Darcy
doesn't really exist?"

When
I didn't say anything she adopted a sympathetic look that was as
fake as Jessica's bust line. "You did!" she cried. "You've
finally moved on! Does Oliver know? I'll have to put an ad in the
paper so all your high school friends will know that you've finally
seen reason!"

Wait
a minute. "How do you know I sent my book back?" I asked
suspiciously. "Surely that box didn't come open in the mail.
Did you open it? That's a criminal offense, you know."

"Like
you'd have the guts to turn me over – " She stopped talking
abruptly, her eyes shifting back and forth like she was looking for
an escape route. "I just remembered," she babbled, backing down
the hall. "I need to work on my chemistry homework."

"On
Easter Sunday?" I called after her. There was no reply.

I
gave myself a mental pat on the back. Turning in Mr. Selman had more
benefits than I'd expected.

I
picked my old copy of Pride
and Prejudice
out of the box and fingered the pages. I'd spent so much time
reading this one book that I'd let it overtake my life. No wonder
Jane Austen was such a good writer. I hadn't done that with any
other book. Of course, I hadn't read any other book as much as I
had this one, but still. That had to say something.

Most
of the bedroom furniture had been taken out, leaving room for my
mom's work table (I couldn't figure out what kind of project she
was working on; it looked like a bunch of handmade Christmas cards
gone bad to me), my old, battered bookshelf, and a couch. I placing
the book on the shelf next to Austen's other novels and stepped
back to regard the collection silently. I still couldn't figure
out what I'd been thinking when I'd thought Sam was a modern-day
Mr. Darcy. Sure, he was tall and good-looking, and had a certain . .
. Darcy-ish
look about him, but that was about the extent of the similarities.
Sam was too . . . friendly. And non-judgmental. And sweet. And
understanding. And he asked girls out on proper dates. And --

Someone
knocked on the open door, startling me out of my thoughts. "Hey,
Sam," I said absently. "Are you done talking shop with my dad?
I'm surprised he let you get away this soon."

He
gave me a little smile and sank down on the couch, patting the seat
next to him. "He's certainly very enthusiastic about fixing your
old car," he told me. "I think you should let me have it the
next time it breaks down. I'm sure I could get it back to you much
faster."

I
hadn't really expected to get it back in the first place, but this
was hardly the time to criticize my father's efforts. "I'll do
that," I said, leaning into him. Mental note to self, I thought as
Sam's arm slid around me. Find a reliable mechanic as soon as you
get home.

"I
like your parents," Sam said suddenly. "They're very friendly.
I can see where you get your personality from."

Not
many girls like to be told they're just like their mothers, but I
was too comfortable to argue about it. "I'm glad you're not
just like your dad," I told him. "I'm not sure if I could date
you if you were."

His
chuckle rumbled through his chest. "He has his redeeming
qualities," he said lightly. "I just can't think of any at the
moment, since he's most likely headed for jail in the next few
weeks. He did one good thing, though." He shifted in his seat and
drew me closer to his side. "He gave me the company to do with as
I please. He was going to give it to David – " I could hear the
distaste in his tone – "but David's work ethic is a little less
than desirable. And whatever he's done, Dad threw his all into the
catering business. He couldn't bear to see it disappear because
his son wouldn't go in to work every day."

"That's
tremendous news!" I cried, sitting up so I could throw my arms
around his neck. "Congratulations! Why didn't you tell me
earlier? We could have celebrated properly."

"I'm
right where I want to be." He turned to me and gazed at me
steadily.

I
could feel those familiar butterflies fluttering around in my
stomach. By now I should be used to this, I scolded myself. But
every time he looked at me like that I got all tingly.

"My
point exactly." I crossed my legs on the couch and tried to think.
That was hard to do with Sam staring at me like that.

"Any
ideas?"

Frowning,
I shook my head. "Just stupid ones. How about you?"

Sam
took a deep breath, like he was trying to decide what to say. When
he let it out again his eyes were as serious as I'd ever seen them
– and that included the time he'd first told me that he loved me.
"I still like S & K Catering. What do you think?"

I
tilted my head and looked back at him, confused. "As in,
Scrumptious and Killer Catering? Or maybe it's Super and Krazy
Catering, only with the cutesy spelling. I don't know about that,
Sam," I said doubtfully. "I don't picture you owning a cutesy
company."

He
laughed a little and then cleared his throat. "That's not really
what I had in mind. I was thinking more along the lines of 'Sam's
and Katie's Catering.'"

I
sat there and gaped at him. I was sure I resembled a yawning hippo.
"That's very sweet of you, Sam," I told him, feeling
tremendously flattered – and also a little flabbergasted -- "but
shouldn't you name it after you and Hannah? I'm hardly a member
of your family."

I
rolled my eyes at him. "Sam, you hardly join a family like you do
the circus."

He
passed a hand over his face and muttered something to himself. It
sounded like he was saying something about dense women. "Katie.
Focus. I'm trying to ask you something very important here. I've
loved you for so long now that I can't remember not loving you. I
can't imagine going through my life without you by my side. I know
I have a psycho family, but the normal members all love you to
pieces. Katie Embury, will you marry me?"

I
just sat there and stared at him stupidly.

"We've
only known each other for a few months," I reminded him feebly.

"Seven,
to be precise. But I've never been so sure about anything in my
life. We can have a long engagement, if you want."

I'd
never been a fan on long engagements. The temptation to do something
you shouldn't seemed to get stronger and stronger the longer you
waited around. "I don't want," I told him decidedly.

Sam's
face was suddenly full of hope. "Does that mean you'll marry me?
As long as I don't insist on a long engagement?"

I
grinned at him, suddenly happier than I could ever have imagined. "I
guess I am."

He
leaned so close I could feel his breath on my cheek. "Say it for
me?" he breathed. "I'd like to hear you say the words."

Later,
as we gazed outside my old window, I spied Hannah and Oliver kissing
in the backyard. I smiled to myself. I hadn't exactly meant to
set them up – well, okay, I had. If I did say so myself, it sure
seemed like it was working out splendidly for all involved.

Sam's
arms tightened around my waist and he leaned close to my ear. "I
love you," he whispered.

I
smiled softly. "I love you, too," I replied, and turned my face
up for another series of his all-too-addicting kisses. When, sighing
in content, I resumed my place in front of the window, my eyes fell
on the row of books stacked neatly in the corner.

Nope,
I told myself, grinning inwardly. Sam was no Mr. Darcy, and I really
wasn't an Elizabeth Bennet. The thought didn't even bother me.

Maybe
I was more of . . . an Emma.

The End

Author's
note:
Well, it's all finished. I'd be terribly remiss if I didn't
thank Linnea one last time for all her hard work on this thing; it
would have been terribly confusing without her help! Also, a huge
thank you goes to CJ – who helped me get my facts straight about
catering companies.

I'm
tremendously grateful to all of you who had read and faithfully
commented on this story, especially since Northanger Abbey isn't
the most popular of Ms. Austen's books. Thanks so much!

The author would like to thank you for your continued support. Your review has been posted.